I remember a comment my mother made about the difficulties of growing older: “Wait till your friends start dying.” At the time, she was about the age I am now, and while I knew what it was like to have both of my husbands die, her words stopped me in my tracks because losing my friends hadn’t occurred to me. It’s only now that I know the full extent of what she meant because a week ago, one of my oldest and dearest friends, David Monroe, was killed in a freak accident. He was crushed under the weight of a 5,000-pound jet engine that fell on top of him.
I know all the details, and they’re tragic and unimaginable, but somehow his death doesn’t seem real.
David Monroe and I’ve been friends since he was 16, and I was 20, and he came to work as a summer intern at my first husband’s company, Datapoint Corporation. Even at an early age, it was easy to see that David was brilliant. He accompanied me and Philip to Silicon Valley and went to work for another one of Philip’s companies, and since none of us knew anyone in California, we depended on our friendships with one another. By the age of 27, David had become the VP of Datapoint. From there, he went on to start numerous high-tech companies, gain Top Secret clearances, build secret black boxes for the government, start a world class science and technology museum, and have dozens–maybe hundreds–of patents issued in his name. In the field of technology, he was a giant among giants.
Photo by Brenda Coffee
One of his patents is for the camera in your cellphone.
If you read my book, MAYA BLUE, I mentioned David several times, but I changed his name to Stephen. He’s the one I called when Philip was diagnosed with lung cancer, and I vividly remember the two of us sitting on the floor in the medical school library, crying, because we realized Philip wouldn’t be with us much longer. David flew to Houston with me to interview oncologists, and when I did a hostile takeover of the company that manufactured Philip’s smokeless cigarette, the first vape, David suggested a lawyer for me to call. But he went beyond the call of duty when he joined the company’s board of directors. For liability reasons, he didn’t want to sit on the board of a public company, much less one with a product that contained nicotine, but he did it because I asked him. Because he always had my best interest at heart.
When I returned from Guatemala, he could tell something terrible had happened to me, and after talking with him, he introduced me to a physician, who was one of the foremost authorities in hypnosis. If it hadn’t been for David, I don’t know how I would have managed what I now know was PTSD and what turned into my chronic inability to feel safe enough to go to sleep.
I’m having trouble processing that we’ll never text, have lunch together again, or have another one of our four-hour marathon conversations where we talk about what we’re doing; what’s happening in the world, and the ever present question between old friends, “Remember when we… ?”
The first personal computer, invented by my late husband, Jon Philip Ray. David Monroe contributed to the coding architecture of the first microprocessor–also invented by Jon Philip Ray–that’s in this computer. Photo by Brenda Coffee
David’s death and the unthinkable way he died is never far from my thoughts. This afternoon I said, out loud, “I can’t wrap my head around this, God!” And I can’t. Perhaps it’s his sudden death and the way it happened that’s so haunting. If he’d died of a disease, and we knew his time was limited, we could’ve gotten used to the idea, but that choice was taken from all of us when a 5000-pound jet engine fell on top of him.
The other day, I emailed a new friend and told her how grateful I was for her friendship and what it means to have her in my life. And with my older friends, I’m trying to tell them how much I love them and ask them to please stay safe and well. One of those friends is coming for dinner, tonight.
I’ve known him almost as long as David and I knew one another. This friend is a foodie and a fabulous cook. He’s the one I made the lobster and corn chowder for a few weeks ago, and tonight, I’m making him mushroom bourguignon over parmesan polenta and a steak.
When’s the last time you told your friends how much you loved them? How much you appreciate them? David knew I loved him because I would always say, “I love you, sweet man. I’m so glad you’re in my life.” Don’t wait to express how you feel about your friends because the opportunity can vanish in the blink of an eye.
45 thoughts on “WAIT TILL YOUR FRIENDS START DYING”
I’m sorry Brenda, such an incredible friend.
Thank you, Carol. Hug your friends, tightly. xoxox, Brenda
Brenda I am so very sorry for your loss, I also lost a dear friend soon to be three years and I am still devastated at the loss and the hole it has left in me. Your blog is such a joy to read and I am in wonder at the life you have lived and the wisdom you share with us. Continue to tell your friends that you love them, tomorrow is not a given.
Nancy, I’m sorry you know this kind of loss, and thank you for the kind words. Yes, tell the people in your live you love them. xoxox, Brenda
I cannot imagine a time when my two best friends wouldn’t be here on earth with me. We met in kindergarten and lived within a half mile of each other. One of their mothers was my fifth-grade teacher and the other Mom now summers near me and we play golf together. Us “girls” have remained friends throughout our entire adult lives despite some having children (hey, that can really disconnect some people…), and living in three different states since we were each 18 years old. They are more like family (in a good way) to me than my own family. They know me better than my husband and having people like this in life who are supportive and fun are true gifts in life and I recognize that more now at age 56 than ever. Thank you for sharing this incredible friendship with us and reminding us of the important of telling our friends how much they mean to us. I am sorry for your loss.
Stacia, You are blessed, indeed, to still have these women, and their mothers, in your life. Friends like these are family by choice, and as you say, often know us better and are more supportive of us than our blood family. xoxox, Brenda
Brenda, I’ve never been good at making friends as I’m shy and introverted, but afrter reading about your friend and the other comments left by others, I realize how much I’ve missed. Thank you for all the support and words to live by you give us each week. We’ve never met but I feel like you’re a dear friend, so take care of yourself because you mean so much to so many.
Oh, Maria! Thank you dear lady! Friends are difficult to make, especially after we reach a certain age in life, so I’m glad you and I are friends. Take care and blessings. xoxox, Brenda
I’m so sorry for the loss of your friend.
FYI —
I had a college girl friend write me a letter a few years ago telling me how special our friendship was to her…. It was beautiful. And touching. And filled me with guilt that we all need to share our feelings with friends before it’s too late. On her 70th birthday, I reciprocated with a note, recapping our many mischiefs and memories. It was really special. We both were teary eyed.
And, I vowed to write other friends something similar, before it’s too late. That was two years ago. Time to get busy.
Connie,
I love the letters you’ve written one another. A letter, a text, or a phone call… We all need to reach out to the important people in our lives, sooner rather than after it’s too late. xoxox, Brenda
Brenda – I am so sorry you have lost your sweet friend. Thinking of you on this rainy morning. Sudden death is so very hard for those of us left behind.
Thank your, Gray. I appreciate your words, and I remember that you know about loss. I hope you’re doing well. xoxox, Brenda
This is such a tragedy. No one could have imagined they’d die this way. I’m sorry for his family and for you. Xo, Barb
Hi Barb, We all know that death is inevitable, but we all wish it will be an easy one, like Robert Redford’s, who died in his sleep. Thank you, Barb. xoxox, Brenda
This is a tough one, Brenda. I can see why you can’t wrap your head around it. I’m sorry.
I appreciate that, Tyler. Thank you, Brenda
Brenda, I am so sorry for the loss of your beloved friend, David. My prayers and my thoughts are with you. I have encountered many losses in my life (my beloved, my family, my friends) and I am still struggling with the grief. Some days, I can manage and others days I have a hard time believing they are gone and I am overwhelmed with grief. As you said, it’s a shock when someone passes away and you had no time to prepare (if such a thing exist.) You have been through losses before so I am not telling you anything that you don’t already know . There will be moments of acceptance and moments where you feel that you’re in a dream wanting to wake up from the nightmare. We’re impermanent therefore it’s so important to hold our friends and those we love close to our heart and spend as much time with them and to show them that we love them by words and actions. My heart goes out to you, dear Brenda. Sending you love, strength and courage. xoxox
Thank you, Yvonne. I’m sorry you know great loss and that you’re still struggling with it. There’s no time table on grief, is there? Like you, I know what it’s like to lose those we love, and I know I’ll get through this, and I pray my friend’s family does as well. Sending your love, strength and courage right back to you, Brenda
I find myself saying, “So sorry for your loss,” and “I’m praying for you,” so much more now than ever before. And since my diagnosis of ALS, I find myself the recipient of those words more than I ever expected to. A fast death underneath a jet engine is short and sweet for the victim, as opposed to a long drawn out ordeal. It’s definitely harder on those of us left behind because we never told them how much we cared in a timely way. When it’s drawn out, we know our loved ones care…unless they don’t! Boohoo.
Brenda, I’m truly sorry for your loss. He meant a lot to you and your husband. A connection to your past you always thought would be there. God’s blessings to you.
Barbara, Unfortuantely, my friend’s death was not sweet. It was grizzly. Beyond comprehension, but I know what you mean. Last week I read where Robert Redford died in his sleep. That’s the way we’d all like to go. I can’t imagine what it’s like for you to slowly have a body that’s served you well, all these years, to slowly turn on you. I’m thinking it would be claustrophobic in some ways, because your world is getting smaller and the switches are being turned off and you have no control to stop it. You’ve been in my prayers since you first told me about your diagnosis, and I need to be more in contact with you. A better friend as you make your way through the unthinkable. Sending you love and my continued prayers, Brenda
I live in Houston and this story about your friend’s tragic death was on the news here. Blessings to you and his family and friends. I’m so sorry for your loss.
Thank you, Talley. I’m not surprised you saw it on the news in Houston. David was known and respected far and wide. Brenda
Brenda, I am so sorry for your loss. I remember him well in your book. Because of you I have just gotten off the phone with a dear friend of many years. Thank you.
Thank you, Linda, for telling me you reached out to your friend. David would be glad to know he played a role in this. Thank you, thank you, for telling me. xoxox, Brenda
Dear Brenda,
I’m sorry your friend died in such a tragic manner. I still miss friends that have passed more than I thought possible. My warm and caring thoughts are with you.
You’re sweet and kind, and I always enjoy hearing from you, Colleen. Thank you! xoxox, Brenda
Dearest Brenda,
I remember thinking that he was such a special, wonderful friend when you described in your book, how he was always there for you.
I know you will miss his comforting presence and I am so sorry for your loss.
Heartfelt condolences,
T xx
I appreciate you and your kindness, Trudye! I wish you a joyous day! Thank you! xoxox, Brenda
Hand surgery preventing long missive. Losing a dear friend tends to make our own mortality so real and inescapable. It is really two losses. I have friends who have passed and two that are in memory care. Acceptance is hard because our minds refuse to believe it at first. Hope you find peace from the
emotional pain. Am here if ya need a shoulder.
Thank you, wonderful friend. Memory care… I hope I escape that one, or if I go down that path, that I’m like your mom who loved to watch the same movie over and over as though it were the first time she’d seen it. What a special lady! Both of you! It runs in the family. Love, Brenda
Amen Brenda. At 70, it’s coming round. Sorry for your loss. But you are here to tell us and remind us to think. I appreciate you and am glad you’re my neighbor.
Thank you, Mark! I appreciate you as well. I kept looking for you at my book signings, hoping I’d get a chance to meet you, but alas, you didn’t come. Take good care of yourself. Brenda
Oh I’m so sorry my precious friend!! David was more family to you after all these years and I’m so sorry…I do love you my sweet friend!! You are cherished!!
You’re right, Tammy! David was family. Family by choice, not by birth. Thank you, my darling friend I love you as well, Brenda
Dear Brenda, I’m so sorry for the heartache you are suffering from the sudden and unexpected loss of your cherished friend. May the peace of God which passes all understanding bring you comfort. Love and prayers.
God’s peace is a blessed gift, isn’t it, Marcie? Thank you. Thank you. xoxox, Brenda
Dear Brenda
So sad re the unexpected tragic death of your great friend David. He supported you thru so much. A loss for you that is heavy in your heart.
I was reading thru my collection of haiku last night and saw this poem by Soseki:
Since you went away
No flowers are left
On earth
**I think it is really poignant re a death.
Thank you for sharing, Rosemarie. That beautiful piece was written by someone who knows great loss. xoxox, Brenda
Dear Brenda,
What an absolutely horrid way to die. I understand how you must be feeling. David Monroe sounds like the best kind of friend you could ever ask for. You learn a lot about your friends in your time of need, whatever that might be. The ones that were and are there and not because you asked them. David is one in a million. I like that he was always present for you in your time of need and no need. I have found that most people are absorbed so much in their own life that they care about you in the best way they know how. To have a friend like David is a loss that you never fully recover from.
Your mother was so right about loss of our friends as they pass away. I have lost many. When one of my forever friends of 38 years passed away about three years ago that was the day that everything changed. The same when my kitties passed away and family members.
Brenda, I just come to you softly and tenderly for the passing of your forever friend, David Monroe. You both were so blessed to have one another in your lives.
Sending you virtual warm hugs.
Katherine, “I come to you softly and tenderly…” That’s one of the most beautiful sentiments anyone has ever extended to me. Ever. Thank you, sweet lady. I will not forget this, or you. Love, Brenda
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Aw Brenda, What a loss. I’m so sorry. I can’t believe, my band of 5 dearest friends are now down to 3. One of them just moved across the country. I guess we’ll Facetime. But a jet engine???? I must look that up. He was more than a friend, he was part of you.